


and all the spots where we collide

by radstereo



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: 1920s, 1930s, Friends to Lovers, Irish Sarah Rogers, M/M, Pre-Captain America: The First Avenger, sarah and winnie are best friends
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-24
Updated: 2020-03-24
Packaged: 2021-03-01 04:08:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,312
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23289052
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/radstereo/pseuds/radstereo
Summary: Winifred Barnes meets a woman in a supermarket in 1918.That woman's name is Sarah Rogers.or, Steve and Bucky's lives told through their mothers'.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes & Steve Rogers, James "Bucky" Barnes & Winifred Barnes & Sarah Rogers & Steve Rogers, James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers, Winifred Barnes & Sarah Rogers
Comments: 15
Kudos: 148





	and all the spots where we collide

**Author's Note:**

> title from "plate tectonics" by when the clock strikes

Winifred Barnes met her on a rushed Sunday morning, when she bumped into her in a crowded supermarket and knocked the fruit out of her hands. Winnie was twenty-nine and a mother to a one year old, and the woman was twenty-six and pregnant with her first. 

“Oh my goodness, I am so sorry!” Winnie exclaimed upon the collision, immediately bending down to try and pick up the woman’s things. The woman had done the same, laughing it off as they rose again from the ground. 

“It’s quite alright.” Her Irish accent was thick, so thick that Winnie almost couldn't understand her, but her smile was bright and beautiful. She brushed her apples off on her blouse. “Accidents happen.”

Winnie eyed her stomach, and immediately smiled. “Oh, are you expecting?”

She looked up, and for a moment Winnie was afraid she’d gotten it wrong, but the blonde woman nodded with excitement. “Yes! My husband and I think it will be soon, too!”

“That’s fantastic!” Winnie grinned. She remembered how happy she’d been to talk about _her_ baby when she was pregnant, so she always jumped at the chance to talk with expecting mothers. “Once again, I am so sorry about that.”

“Don’t be!” the woman laughed, shaking her head. “It’s okay!”

Winnie nodded, laughing softly. “Of course, of course. Have a nice day now!”

“You as well!” the woman said as Winnie began to walk away. “Wait! I didn’t catch your name." 

“I didn’t say it,” Winnie smiled with a teasing tone to her voice, holding up her free hand to wave at the woman. “I’m Winifred.”

The woman nodded, holding her hand up as well. “Sarah.”

* * *

From this, Winnie and Sarah met again. And again. And before long, the two women called themselves best friends. They would sit on Winnie’s porch and watch the children play, or talk about their husbands, or whatever else there was to talk about. 

Oh, and did James love Sarah.

When she’d come by the house, he’d cry out in joy, crawl to the door and hug her ankles. He was still small then, and Sarah would pick him up and twirl him around to get him laughing. He would always crack up in her arms. 

When the women sat out on the porch, James would sit in Sarah’s lap and lay his head against her stomach. Sarah would always joke that he was listening to the baby. Winnie would watch with a smile as Sarah would run her fingers through his hair. It was the sweet moments like this that would make Winnie grateful she’d chosen to go to the supermarket that Sunday, and met Sarah. 

Winnie was there for Sarah when Joseph died, in the war.

Winnie was there to help Sarah set up the nursery, alone. 

Winnie was there to hold Sarah when she cried. 

And on the morning of July 4th, 1918, Winnie was there when Sarah’s water broke, in the middle of the Barnes’ kitchen. 

Winnie had screamed for George to help her get Sarah upstairs to their bedroom. “I’ll ruin your sheets!” Sarah had argued, but Winnie didn’t care. 

“I’ll replace them. You’re about to be a mother!”

And, so, within a couple of hours and a lot of tears, Sarah laid exhausted on the bed with her baby on her chest. Winnie Barnes had never delivered a child, but she assumed she’d done a hell of a good job if both Sarah and the baby were breathing.

“He’s a boy,” Winnie had said softly as she placed the baby on Sarah’s chest. 

“Steven,” Sarah had whispered, stroking her baby’s face gently. “His name is Steven…”

“I like that name,” Winnie smiled. “You can call him Steve, as well.”

Sarah looked up at Winnie, with a glint of something in her eyes that Winnie couldn’t name. “Yes. Steve…”

Winnie took the baby after a few moments and very carefully washed him off in the bathroom sink. She held him in her hands, just looking down at him for a while. She stroked his cheek, where Sarah had before, washing off the blood there. He was so small. He was so fragile.

“Oh, Steve,” Winnie whispered, taking a deep breath. “You have the best mother in the whole world.”

She was finishing up her mini-bath when Steve had started to cry, so she quickly rushed him back to Sarah without even bothering to dry him off. “He’s still dripping wet, but he’s crying, so—”

“Oh, Winnie, thank you,” Sarah sighed, sitting up now, taking Steve into her arms and looking down at him. “His eyes are blue. Will they stay blue?”

“They should,” Winnie said. “Both you and Joseph have blue eyes.”

Sarah had a tear running down her face. “I have been waiting so long to meet you… but I’m so sorry you couldn’t meet your dad…”

They sat in sweet silence for a while, before Sarah looked up. “Bring in James, why don’t you? Let him meet my boy…”

Winnie nodded. “That’s a wonderful idea.” She left the bedroom, heading to James’ room, where he was thankfully still asleep. She reached into his crib, carefully lifting him into her arms. 

“Jamie…” she said softly, trying to gently wake him. “Baby boy, wake up…”

James made a little noise in her arms as he woke up, and leaned back a bit. Winnie smiled as he looked at her, and a small smile came onto his face as well.

“There’s my boy,” she said. “Let’s go meet Steve, okay?”

She walked with him in her arms to the bedroom, closing the door behind her. 

“Hi Jamie..!” Sarah said happily upon seeing him, her voice still soft from exhaustion. Steve was still in her arms, of course.

Winnie brought James over to her, sitting him down on the bed next to her. He immediately tried to climb on top of her but Winnie picked him up again, causing Sarah to laugh.

“Oh dear, not today,” Winnie chuckled, holding James on her lap as she sat next to Sarah. “Look honey, that’s Steve. He’s gonna be your friend.”

James leaned forward in curiosity, looking at Steve’s small face. He reached a hand out, and carefully pressed his little fingers against Steve’s forehead. 

“Oh my… this is precious,” Sarah whispered, tearing up again, looking at Winnie. “Look at our boys, Winnie.”

“I know,” Winnie smiled, scooting her and James closer to Sarah and Steve. 

“Say hi to Steve, Jamie,” Winnie smiled, holding up James’ little arm and making him wave. Sarah laughed, picking up Steve’s arm and making him wave back. The two women broke into laughter.

“I think they are going to be great friends, Sarah,” Winnie smiled. “Steve and Jamie, taking over the world.”

Sarah nodded, wiping the tears off her face from a mixture of happiness and laughing. “Dear, me too—”

“ _Steeb.”_

The room went quiet. Winnie looked down at her son, shocked.

“ _Steeb.”_ He said it again. 

“Oh, Winnie!” Sarah laughed. “That’s so sweet!”

“That was his first word,” George spoke up, sounding shocked. “Winifred. That was his—”

“I know,” Winnie said, laughing in disbelief. “Good golly.”

“That was his first word?” Sarah asked, shocked, and Winnie nodded. 

They were all quiet again. 

“Well, I guess it seems that Steve’s first word needs to be James, then,” Sarah joked, and it made all four of them laugh. 

James laughed, too, even if he had no idea what they were laughing at. But he continued to stare. 

To stare at Steve.

* * *

Steve's first word was not _James._ It was Momma. But that was alright in Sarah's eyes.

* * *

As Steve got older, he learned his ABCs and his 123s all with James by his side. 

By three, Steve was calling him Bucky. 

By four, so was everyone else. Except Winnie and George. And Sarah sometimes, who still let _Jamie_ slip ever-so-often.

And once they were old enough to be _kids—_ five and six, respectively— Steve had started to show his true colors. 

Nothing bad, of course. It just became apparent to everyone quite quickly the type of boy Steve Rogers was. 

On the playground, if a girl was getting her ponytail pulled, Steve would get upset and march over to the bully, pushing him down onto the grass. Or, if he heard a kid calling another kid names, he’d yell at him to knock it off. 

The kids at school started to make fun of Steve, too. For being small. For being weak. Steve never cared, though. He was always brave, always standing up for the other kids in his class. 

The first time Steve broke his nose was spring of 1926. Sarah had been called up to the school to find her seven-year-old son with a bloodied face and a crooked nose. The story went that some kid on the playground called another kid stupid, or dumb, or something along those lines, and Steve, being _Steve,_ had ran over and told the kid to stop being a bully. These kids were older now. And with age came meanness— the bully had drawn his hand back and popped Steve right in the nose, knocking him to the ground. Recess was cut short after that. 

Sarah took Steve to the hospital, got him fixed up the best he could, and took him home. Steve was so mad. He kept saying how ugly his nose was gonna look now, even if Sarah continuously told him _it will be fine._ He didn’t believe her. 

Oh, and Bucky thought it was the funniest thing in the world. 

* * *

Steve broke his nose three more times before he was ten years old.

* * *

In November of 1929, the Barnes family lost their house. Bucky was twelve, Becca was seven, and Winnie was pregnant with twins. They’d packed up everything quick, and once they’d piled it all into their car, they drove. 

They drove to Sarah Rogers. 

Winnie didn’t know where else to go. All of George’s family was back in Indiana, and _her_ own family hated her for moving to New York all those years ago, so to Sarah’s they went. 

She’d answered the door in her scrubs, clearly getting ready to head out for her shift at the hospital. Steve had been right there beside her, small and skinny as always, and a smile broke across his face when he saw Bucky. The kids didn’t really get what was happening, but Winnie knew, deep down, that Bucky did. She told him to go play with Steve for a bit, so the two of them ran into the apartment and straight to Steve’s room. 

“What’s going on?” Sarah asked, leaning out to see the Barnes’ car filled to the brim with their things. “Winnie?”

“We lost the house, Sar,” Winnie sighed, rubbing her face with her hand. “I don’t know how.”

“Oh,” Sarah said, so softly, and pulled Winnie into a hug, closing her eyes and resting her chin on her friend’s shoulder. 

Winnie let herself cry, then— something she never did. She wanted to be strong for Bucky, for Becca, for her twins that she didn’t even know yet. But she’d always been able to be vulnerable with Sarah Rogers. 

The two women stayed like that for a long time, until Sarah pulled away and signaled to George in the car that he and Becca could come in. “There’s not a lot of room, but—”

“Oh, Sarah, don’t worry. We won’t be here long,” Winnie reassured, wiping her face. “Just until George can find someplace new. I didn’t know where else to go.”

Sarah held Winnie’s face in her hands. “You can always come to me.”

* * *

“Sarah,” came Bucky’s voice, quiet, hushed, soft. Young. He was fifteen now, starting to grow into himself. It was late, maybe eleven or so, and the only sounds in the apartment were the soft turn of a book’s pages and Steve’s gentle snores from the other room. 

Sarah looked up from the couch, closing her book gently and placing it on her lap. Bucky was spending the night there, and Sarah had assumed the two of them had fallen asleep hours ago. 

“What’s up, Jamie?” Sarah asked softly, furrowing her brows, because as much as she loved Bucky, he was getting older and as time went on she knew he was becoming more independent. There were times when he was small that he’d run to her in the night while he and Steve were having a sleepover, crying about a nightmare and she’d hold him the way she did when he was one and she was pregnant. But that hasn’t happened in a long time. 

Bucky walked over to the couch, sitting next to Sarah. His head was ducked, like he was afraid, and he just stared at the floor. 

“Bucky,” she said, looking at him, concerned. “What’s wrong?”

He was messing with a loose hem on his pajama pants, that little twitch in his left hand coming out like it always did when he was nervous. He let out a shaky breath. 

“What do you think about homosexuals?” he said quietly, and his voice sounded ashamed. He was trying to be as quiet as he could, God knows what would happen if Steve woke up and heard him. He kept his eyes trained on the floor, though, not looking up when Sarah made a confused noise. 

“What?” she asked first, then closed her eyes and shook her head. “Why are you asking?”

“Just wanna know,” Bucky mumbled, and now his voice was scared for real. The type of scared Sarah remembered in Winnie’s voice the day they lost the house. The uncertainty. 

“I believe that there are a lot of people in this world who feel that other people’s lives are their business,” Sarah began, letting a hand land on Bucky’s shoulder, then up through the hair on the nape of his neck. “I am not one of those people. I don’t care how other people feel.”

“Do you think it’s disgusting,” Bucky breathed out, and in the heavy silence that followed a tear dropped from his face onto the floor. 

Sarah’s chest felt tight. “Do you?”

“I should.”

“But you don’t.”

It was quiet again, then. Except for Steve's goddamn snoring. 

Bucky's question came after a bit of time, and with the question came a shake in his voice, once again. “Would you still let me be Steve’s friend if I were queer?”

Sarah had known what this conversation was about the moment Bucky had brought up homosexuality, really. But hearing him say it was different. It wasn't bad. It didn’t fill her with anger, like it would to most of the world. It felt… relieving. Like, she’d finally put together the pieces. She’d known, deep down, she’d known forever. Since Bucky was still James and Steve was still learning to talk, she’d known. The way Bucky acted with the girls he took out on dates versus the way he acted with Steve was enough for her to know, truthfully. There’s something funny in the way she knew. 

“Of course I would,” she whispered, pulling Bucky’s head into her chest, and she felt when the fabric of her nightgown grew wet with tears. Bucky was a quiet crier, when he needed to be. 

“ _P_ _lease don’t tell her_ ,” Bucky cried, his words wet and almost muffled. 

“Who, honey?” Sarah didn’t have to ask, not really. 

“ _Mom_.”

Sarah closed her eyes. “She will love you, all the same. You do not need to worry about your mother.” 

He didn’t say anything more. He finished crying and stood from his spot on the couch. He didn’t meet Sarah’s eyes. He walked back to Steve’s room, shut the door, and went to sleep. 

Sarah didn’t sleep that night. 

* * *

They were sitting on the fire escape when it started to pour. 

Bucky was the one to scream first, and quickly get inside the apartment. Steve had just laughed his ass off, taking his sweet time getting inside. He was soaking wet, dripping all over the shitty carpet. Bucky was standing on the other side of the room, a crooked smile on his face.

“Ma is gonna kill ya if you ruin the carpet,” Bucky laughed. “C’mon, let’s get ya into dry clothes, punk.”

Bucky was seventeen. Steve had just turned sixteen two days ago. Sarah had cried because _her baby is getting so old,_ and Winnie had laughed because _has it really been sixteen years since that day?_ They’d celebrated with cake and fireworks, until the adults had gone to bed and Steve and Bucky stayed up all night to see the sunrise. 

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever,” Steve smiled, following Bucky into his room, tugging off his wet clothes and, when Bucky turned around to give Steve a change, tossed his shirt right into Bucky’s face. 

“Hey!” Bucky exclaimed, dropping the new clothes on his bed. “Oh, y’gonna _get it!”_

Bucky made a run for Steve, and they toppled onto the ground, pushing and rolling playfully. Bucky knew how much wrestling Steve could take without hurting him. They were soaking up the damn floor but neither one of them cared. 

Bucky had gotten Steve pinned— “I let you pin me, asshole,”— when time seemed to slow. Bucky had his hands on either side of Steve’s head, each one wrapped around a bony, pale wrist. He was staring down at Steve. 

_Steve._ He had a sunburn on his face. Wasn’t too bad, just a smack across his nose and a bit of red on his cheeks, but it made the freckles on his face darker than usual so Bucky liked it. Steve’s hair was wet. His lips were red, like they always were. 

He didn’t mean to lean down. Steve didn’t mean to lean up. 

They were kissing when Winnie got home. 

Bucky didn’t hear her call for him. He couldn’t hear anything except Steve’s breathing, really. Because Steve was on top of him now, still on the floor, and Bucky’s hands were in his hair. 

“Jamie!” Winnie called, settling her things down on the countertop. She’d bought his favorite type of apples from the supermarket. 

When she didn’t get a reply, she furrowed her brows and made her way to his room. She knew he was home— his shoes were at the door, right next to Steve’s. 

She pushed his cracked door open a bit more with her hip. “Jamie—” 

And there was her boy, and her boy’s best friend, on the floor. 

They broke apart fast, Bucky practically flying across the room, away from Steve. They both stared up at her in shock. 

“I—” Winnie started, but stopped herself. She didn’t even know what she was going to say, there. Steve’s face was beet red, with it spreading down his neck and thinning out on his chest. 

Bucky looked about ready to cry. 

“Mrs. Barnes—” Steve blurted, which almost made Winnie laugh, because Steve _never_ called her that. “I’m sorry—”

“Don’t be sorry,” Winnie said, shaking her head. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

Bucky seemed to relax a bit. “Mom…?”

“It’s okay,” she said. She walked more into the room and over to her son, crouching down to meet his eyes. she reached out a hand and held his face. “I love you. I will never _not_ love you.”

Bucky did let a tear fall, then. “Really?”

Winnie sighed. Did Bucky really believe that she _wouldn’t?_ “Of course. I love you so much.”

She leaned forward and pressed a kiss to his forehead. It was damp. 

Her whole world, right in her hand. This was him. 

* * *

George and Winnie split up in September of ‘35. They’d just… fallen away from each other. 

He let her keep the kids. 

And he went back to Indiana. 

* * *

Brooklyn summers were hot and humid and sticky, making Bucky’s shirt cling to the skin of his back, and his hair dampen at the nape of his neck and drip down his spine. But the occasional cool breeze would strike his sweat-covered skin, causing him to shiver, and for a moment there was relief. 

They were at Coney Island for Steve’s eighteenth. Sarah, Winnie, and the kids. 

But it was hot. 

They were on the beach. Bucky and Steve, with their towels close. They were sat up next to each other, watching Winnie and the twins play in the water. Sarah was a bit ahead of them on the sand with her own towel, reading her book as she soaked up a little sun. Becca was next to Sarah. 

“Buck.” Steve’s voice was smooth and soft, right next to his ear, and it relaxed the tension in Bucky’s temples just a bit. He glanced over at Steve, seeing the glisten of sweat on his forehead, the rosy flush of color on his warm cheeks. Steve’s goddamn pale, Irish skin, making him bloom red and pink at the first sight of summer’s sun. 

“Hey,” Bucky mumbled, his eyes closed as a bead of sweat trickled down his nose, dripping off the tip of it. “You not mad at me for the whole Cyclone thing anymore?”

Steve laughed, shaking his head. “No. I forgive ya.”

Bucky felt Steve’s hand brush against the side of his leg, briefly. His fingers were clammy and warm, but his touch was gentle and Bucky loved it all the same. 

“You look miserable.”

Bucky snorted. “It’s fuckin’ sweltering, Stevie. I’m in my right to be miserable.”

“Jamie,” Sarah scorned, turning and giving him a look. “I _can_ hear you, y’know.”

“Sorry, _ma_ ,” Bucky laughed, blowing her an exaggerated kiss as she laughed and turned back around.

Bucky looked over at Steve. He looked tired. Purple rings around blue eyes, his skin washed out where the heat blush wasn’t. His lips chapped from constant biting and licking. 

The last few weeks had been rough. Something was wrong with Steve, and nobody, not even Sarah knew what it was. 

Bucky thought he was depressed. But that wasn’t something you talked about.

“You’re staring,” Steve said softly, directing Bucky’s gaze away from the bump on the bridge of his nose back to his eyes. They locked, and Steve smiled, the expression spreading to those eyes of his. Bucky couldn’t help but smile, too. His eyes got all crinkly and small when he smiled real big, and the sight of it would just make Steve smile more, until both their faces hurt. 

“Jus’ admiring,” Bucky whispered, watching Steve’s eyes glimmer in the sunlight. 

“You wanna go get somethin’ to eat?” Bucky asked after a while. “‘M starving.” 

“Yeah, we can,” Steve smiled, standing up. He walked over to Sarah, nudging her. “Hey, Ma, we’re going to go get somethin’ to eat. You want anything?”

“Oh!” Sarah smiled, closing her book. “I’ll come with you two, if you’re okay with that?”

Bucky smiled upon hearing what she said, jumping up. “Obviously you can come!”

Even as Bucky got older, his excitement from seeing Sarah never faded away. 

The three of them got up off the beach and headed to the pier, walking along the boardwalk. 

“You boys enjoying the day so far?” Sarah asked, looking over at them. “I can tell you’re getting tan, Bucky.”

He shrugged. “Yeah, but that’s normal. Your son over here is like a tomato.”

Steve nudged Bucky, but it was true. 

When they got to their favorite hot dog stand, Bucky started to pull out his wallet, but Sarah shooed his hand away. “I’ll pay, don’t you worry about it, dear.”

“Sarah—” 

“No, no. Let me. I’ll get a few for your mom and the girls, too.” Sarah stepped up to the stand and ordered, paying and turning to smile at Bucky. “Don’t give me that look.”

Bucky, who had definitely been pouting, looked away. “I could've paid.”

“Oh well,” Sarah smiled, reaching out to gently pat Bucky’s cheek. “Steve, help me carry them?”

The three walked back to the beach with six hot dogs. They sat down and smiled as Winnie brought the twins back from the water.

“Here you go,” Sarah said, holding out one to Winnie. “And I got one for Mary and Elise to split.” 

“Oh, Sar, thank you,” Winnie smiled, taking the two hot dogs from her. She helped the twins eat first, before digging into her own.

It was nice, then, all of them eating, laughing about random things that came to mind. It was peaceful. So, so peaceful. 

* * *

And then, Sarah got sick.

* * *

It was bound to happen, really, after working in the hospital for so long. Being around sick people all day. 

It started a week after Coney Island. The coughing. The blood coming up on her hands. 

She’d lost so much weight, so rapidly, that she was suddenly ten pounds away from being the same weight as Steve. Steve, who was ninety-five pounds. 

But after three months, she wasn't getting better. She’d dropped below Steve in weight, and her skin was pale. By that point, the doctors said her lungs were all but gone. 

It was October. 

Steve sat beside her in a chair, his head rested on the bed, and he was asleep. He’d been so exhausted the past few months, barely sleeping. He was worried he’d miss when she would go. 

Bucky was asleep, too, next to Steve. 

Winnie was on the other side of the bed, holding Sarah’s hand. She was awake. 

“You look sad,” Sarah said softly, her voice hoarse and weak from coughing. Winnie had been crying. She didn’t know for how long. It seemed like it never stopped. 

“I am sad,” Winnie managed a laugh. “Obviously, Sarah.”

Sarah just smiled, but it was broken. “I know. I just wanted to make you laugh.”

Winnie sniffled, a piece of her hair falling in her face. She looked over at their boys, fast asleep, with their heads pressed together. 

“They will be alright without me,” Sarah sighed. “They will have you.” 

“Don’t talk like that,” Winnie said. She was still putting off the inevitable, that Sarah was going to die here. Within days, now, she knew. It was rushing up fast and she didn’t know how to handle it. 

She never, in a million years, imagined this was how it would happen. 

“I’m dying, Winnie,” Sarah said, closing her eyes for a moment. She began to cough, and Winnie instinctively backed up, letting Sarah cough it out into the piece of cloth there left for that reason. Once Sarah was done, she moved back forward, sniffling again. 

“I don’t want you to be,” Winnie said shakily, which was a stupid thing to say, because who did? Who wanted someone they loved to be dying? 

Sarah laughed again, that same, weak laugh. But it was her’s. “But I am.” 

Winnie laid her head down on Sarah’s hip, looking up at her friend. Sarah was crying, now, and for some reason that crushed Winnie. She’d seen Sarah cry before. But she supposed this was different.

Sarah sucked in a tight breath. “Wake up the boys, Winnie.”

Winnie’s head raised a bit. “Wha—?”

“Please.”

She knew what was coming. She closed her eyes as her bottom lip began to tremble. She reached out towards Steve and Bucky.

“Boys,” she said, shaking them. “Steve, Jamie, wake up.”

Bucky woke up first, rubbing his eyes. “Mom? What’s up?”

“Sarah’s not feeling too well right now,” Winnie managed to say, though she was starting to really cry now. 

“What?” Bucky said, louder, nudging Steve hard to wake him up. “No. No, Sarah, you’ll be fine—”

“Dear,” Sarah sighed, reaching out and stroking Bucky’s hair. “It’s my time.”

“Ma..?” Steve mumbled as he woke up, still deluded with sleep. “Hm..?”

“Oh, my sweet boy…” Sarah moved her hand to Steve next, cupping his chin. “Hello.”

“Momma?” he asked, and his voice was small. He was like a child, then, as his big, blue eyes welled up with tears. “What’s wrong?”

“I love you,” she smiled, brushing through his hair with her fingers. “Promise me you and Jamie will stay friends forever, okay?”

“Sarah,” Bucky tried again, but Winnie reached over and placed a hand on his arm, as if to say, _let them talk._

“Momma,” Steve whispered, shaking his head. “You can’t go.”

“I’m so sorry,” she whispered back, stroking his face. “I was so lucky to be your mother.”

Sarah leaned her head back, and gently rolled it to the side, looking at Winnie. 

“Thank you,” she said. 

Winnie shook her head. “You have nothing to thank me for.”

“I have so much to thank you for,” Sarah laughed. “But you know them all. I am so grateful for you. I will love you forever.”

“You know I will, too,” Winnie said, swallowing a sob. “I will miss you so much.”

Sarah, with each hand, held Winnie’s and Steve’s hands. Bucky placed his hand around Steve’s to hold Sarah’s, and she carefully closed her eyes. 

“Winnie?”

“Yes, Sarah, yes?” 

She let out a content sigh. Her chest stopped hurting, suddenly. “I feel better.”

Steve sniffled. “It’s okay, Momma. That’s good. You can let go.”

“Listen to your son,” Winnie laughed, but it wasn’t genuine. “He’s stubborn.”

“Oh, don’t I know it,” Sarah smiled. 

She will never be sure of when her heart stopped, or when her brain shut down, but as she faded off she felt safe. She had her boys and she had her girl. 

Winnie saw the moment Sarah’s muscles relaxed, her head carefully lolling to the side, and she broke down. She rested her head on the bed and just cried, and cried, and cried.

Bucky cried, too. 

And Steve? 

Steve was numb. 

* * *

_To George,_

_I suppose you’re curious on why I’ve decided to write you. We haven’t spoken in a year. I hope you’re doing alright in Indiana. I bet your family is mighty glad to have you so close again._

_I’m writing to let you know that Sarah’s passed away. You remember Sarah, don’t you? It’d be surprising if you didn’t, truthfully. She caught tuberculosis from work. It was fast. Too fast._

_It’s so much to deal with. I know you probably don’t want to hear about my problems anymore, but I hate to bring this up around Jamie. He can barely talk about it._

_I feel… confused, I suppose. Perhaps I’ve been close with Sarah for so long that I’ve forgotten a time without her. Or maybe it’s because Steve still comes around and it’s strange for her not to be with him. I want things to be normal, but normal feels off-putting._

_Her funeral was lovely, though. There was only me, the boys, the girls, and some nurses from Sarah’s hospital, but it was lovely nonetheless. Steve goes to her grave every day. Bucky’s with him most days._

_I go, too._

_It’s hard. Her name is on the stone, and she’s labeled as a loving mother, wife, and friend. But it seems undertold. She was so much more than just that label. She was beautiful, and kind, and unique. Sarah was like no other person I have ever met in my whole life, George. And now that she is gone… I’m struggling to find what I’m supposed to do, now._

_Do I continue to go to work and act normal? Or do I let this horrid, painful feeling inside of me be unleashed and take over my life? I don’t want it to._

_Steve’s let it, I think._

_I know it’s a terribly taboo thing to call someone depressed, but I believe Steve is. Badly. I think he was well before all of this went down, but of course, this situation hasn’t helped him at all._

_I’m rambling, at this point. I’m sorry if I’ve wasted your time, George. I suppose I just needed someone to talk to._

_I hope you’re doing swell._

_With love,_

_Winnie_

* * *

Bucky moved in with Steve the following January. 

* * *

Winnie saw her boys less than she would’ve wanted in the years leading up to the war. 

Bucky would come home on the weekends sometimes to have dinner with the family, and Steve would most likely tag along, but Winnie couldn’t help but miss when Bucky lived at home. 

But Steve needed him more than she did. 

* * *

Winnie cried herself to sleep the night Bucky was drafted. 

* * *

Hiding their relationship during the war was tough, to say the least. 

However, Steve was a romantic man, and was damn determined to make this Valentine’s Day a good one. He knew him and Bucky would be able to get some time together tonight, after their mission.

Skin on skin contact was hard to come by nowadays. They hadn’t had more than thirty seconds alone since before ‘45 even started. It was a big change from the constant isolation the two experienced back in Brooklyn, as winters were too deadly for Steve to leave the place and summers were just outright exhausting. They were always cooped up in the apartment, alone, together, with too much time on their hands. Nobody suspected anything from a couple of best friends rooming together to save some money during the Depression— of course, if they knew it was actually a couple of best friends sleeping in the same twin bed, bare legs tangled, kiss-bruised mouths pressed to one another's, it’d be a different story. It was a funny thing, the difference between their public friendship and private romance. And of course, during winter, if anyone were to catch the two being just a bit too affectionate, Bucky’d pull the classic card— _You see, my buddy Steve here, he’s real sick, and it flares up a whole lot during the cold months. At night sometimes I even gotta lend him some clothes so he don’t freeze in his sleep, his body gets so cold. It’s just a side effect of his illnesses, nothin’ more._

That whole story was partially true, at least. He _did_ have to give Steve his clothes and let him get close in the night, sharing the bed, letting Steve steal off his body heat because nothing else worked. Bucky would be lying if he said he didn’t worry every night from November to March in Brooklyn that he’d wake up in the morning to find Steve blue and dead next to him, icicles on the tip of his nose and frost in his hair. The love of it all was the unspoken part, except for in the silence of the night, a gentle whisper between quiet kisses. 

They were looking out over the mountain range, coated in snow now. 

“Hey,” Bucky said, catching Steve’s attention. “Remember when I made ya ride the Cyclone at Coney Island?”

* * *

_Winnie,_

_I’m assuming you’ve gotten a letter already. I’m so fuckin’ sorry._

_I loved Bucky so much._

_I know you did, too._

_I don’t really know what to say, so I’m not gonna say much. I just wanted you to know that I am sorry. I’m sorry I couldn’t protect him._

_He was hangin’ onto the side of train, and I had him. I promise I had him. But he slipped outta my reach. All I had to do was hold him, and I failed._

_I’m so sorry I let your son die._

_Tell the girls I’m sorry and I love them, too._

_He’s with Ma, now. I know they’re up there, fuckin’ having a blast. Bet they’re talkin’ smack about us, right?_

_I miss both of them so much._

_I know you do, too._

_Steve_

* * *

Bucky’s grave was empty. 

Winnie would still sit there, though, and talk to him as though he were there. And she’d leave flowers. And then once she was done, she’d head over to Sarah’s, and talk to her for a while, too. 

When the news broke that _Captain America_ had died… she started visiting his grave, too.

But not his real grave. That one— despite being empty like her Jamie’s— was always crowded with people. Random people from across the damn country would come to Brooklyn, New York just to visit Captain America’s grave. 

Winnie didn’t want to deal with all those strangers. She needed to mourn. 

She dedicated a little spot next to Sarah’s grave for Steve’s. She got a large rock, and some paint, and slathered the name _Steve Rogers_ onto it and placed it on the dirt next to Sarah. 

It was for her. And it was for him, too.

* * *

Seventy three years and a lifetime of torture later, Bucky Barnes stands in front of his mother’s grave. He reads the headstone slowly, taking in the words. _Winifred Catherine Barnes. Mother of four and a friend to many._

He feels himself start to cry. Shuri had brought back most of his memories, and so many of them were of _her._ Of his mom, and God, of _Sarah._

_Your mom’s name was Sarah._

He remembers missing her. 

“Hey,” says the gentle voice behind him, and a pair of strong hands land softly on Bucky’s shoulders. 

Bucky turns to look, smiling. Steve’s beard rubs against his cheek. 

“Ow,” Bucky laughs softly, but leans in more to press a kiss to Steve’s lips. 

“How y’doing?” Steve asks once they pulled apart, massaging Bucky’s shoulders a bit. 

Bucky sighs, looking back at the grave. “I’m okay.”

The two stand there silently for a while, with only the sound of the wind. 

“Thank you for bringing me here,” Bucky says. “I know it’s a risk for you to be here.”

Steve shakes his head. “Don’t worry about it, baby. This is for you.”

Bucky turns in his arms, smiling at Steve. He’s still not used to being at eye-level with him. 

“I love you,” Bucky whispers. “I wish they were here.”

“Yeah,” Steve smiles sadly. “Me too, Buck.”

Years and years had let up to now— Steve and Bucky being together, and _happy._

It began with a pair of women in a supermarket.

**Author's Note:**

> twitter: buckbuchanans  
> instagram: cwbucky


End file.
